Until The End
by Crystal Spinning
Summary: What are the boundaries of love, and what defines them? How many different ways can you love someone? Friendship, kinship, relationships...? Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield are beyond the boundaries of love.


**June 1st, 1998**

_Chris' leg was warm as it brushed against Jill's. She leaned against Chris comfortably, scooping up a handful of popcorn, chewing slowly. The lights from the television flashed. _

"_This is ridiculous," Chris complained, putting an arm around his friend. "These horror movies you like so much are dumb."_

"_They're not dumb!" she argued, watching avidly. "You better watch out. There could be a zombie apocalypse one day. Or vampires will attack! And I'll know all the survival tricks."_

_Chris rolled his eyes and snorted. "What are you talking about? It's all common sense. Don't follow the creepy noise, don't wear a ridiculous outfit."_

_She shivered as a chainsaw turned on in the background. "Unless you're in STARS, right? It's our job." Teasing him made her feel safer. As much as she enjoyed cheesy horror movies, the gore always made her feel a little nauseous._

_Brown hair fell into her eyes, and she tucked it back behind her ears. "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he smirked. _

"_I won't need it," she shot back playfully. "Now be quiet and enjoy the movie."_

"_I get to pick the next one."_

"_No stupid war movies. Those always make me cry." she joked._

_The couch was warm and indented from the many times the two of them had plopped down to enjoy a movie marathon. Jill's apartment was quiet, peaceful. The minimalistic furniture wasn't comfortable, but it was much cleaner than Chris' home. Jill's fridge was filled with the bare essentials: a half-drunk carton of milk, expired three days ago; a lonely stick of butter; apples; a jar of peanut butter._

"_Why do you keep peanut butter in the fridge?" Chris asked once while she made popcorn. Glancing back at him, she smiled. "Why wouldn't I?"_

_The cabinets were even more desolate. Fig Newtons and whole wheat bread occupied the enormous space. _

"_What do you eat?" Chris complained. _

_Jill shrugged. "I usually find something."_

_One thing she always kept, though, was popcorn. Specifically, popcorn for their weekly movie festivals. Chris loved Star Wars. Anything with wars, he was all over, with the occasional comedy thrown in for good measure._

_Jill preferred horror… and romance. Her all-time favorite movie was Gone With the Wind. Although she'd never tell Chris. Crying in front of him wasn't on her list of priorities._

_She watched the credits roll on the screen, listening serenely to the dramatic music. Bounding upward, Chris slipped the VCR in. "Thank God that crap is over," he jeered._

_Glaring up at him from the couch, she changed her tack. "Can you get me a blanket, please?" she asked. "Since you didn't bother to rewind the tape."_

_He opened his mouth to object, but then turned and retreated into her bedroom. Jill kept at least five blankets on her bed at all times. She was always cold. Dumping all five on her lap, Chris turned shoved his way next to her. She pressed her cold feet against his calves._

"_Christ, Jill! Your feet are freezing."_

_White teeth peeked out from behind her lips. She snuggled close to him. "My whole body is freezing." _

_He sighed and let her use him as a space heater._

_That's what friends do._

**October 1st, 1998**

"Jill," Carlos' voice jarred her back into reality. "Are you listening?"

Her city's remnants smoked behind her.

"Yes," she lied, turning towards him.

He rolled his eyes and winked. "Was it my accent? All the ladies get distracted by the accent."

She opened her mouth to respond indignantly—until she realized his ploy. Sighing, she looked at him. "What?"

"Mr. Burton up there says that you should go with him to find Chris. Whoever that is."

Blood pumped through her ears at the mention of Chris. In the rush of the past adventure, she'd forgotten almost everything, except survival. She mourned, privately, for Rebecca. For Brad. She was exhausted.

"I am." She leaned back in the seat. "I'm so tired." She felt traitorous tears swell up to her eyes. "God, I'm so tired." She whispered.

But she survived. Umbrella couldn't take that from her. She beat them, again. She shivered, looking down at her tattered, filthy clothing. Her outfit was ridiculous. The shoes were sensible, but her skirt and shirt were the only ones she'd had left. She'd never been good at domestic activities.

She remembered Chris mocking her. "_What are you talking about? It's all common sense. Don't follow the creepy noise, don't wear a ridiculous outfit."_

It seemed so long ago. Four months ago… before everything had gone to hell.

She closed her eyes and slept.

"Contact me if you ever need any help, chica." Carlos hopped off the helicopter. "I'll drop everything and run to you."

"Why are you leaving here?" Jill asked curiously. He obviously had a motive.

He shrugged easily. "Guess I just need a break, ey? Gotta get outta the public eye."

She nodded. Carlos saluted her and ran away. Barry lifted the 'copter. She watched Carlos get smaller and smaller, until his small figure was hidden.

Gratitude flooded her. She accepted his offer wholeheartedly. She looked up at Barry, clad in helmet and armor, at least six different guns beside him.

Prepared to fight. For her.

Nails coated in dirt caught her eye. She'd had no time for vanity in the past few days, but not, it was bothering her. The one thing Jill couldn't stand was dealing with untrimmed nails.

Jill wasn't a woman overly fond of her own appearance, but her hands were her pride and joy: her jewels. Her nails were perfectly shaped in a bed of soft, pale skin, always perfectly manicured. Disliking nail polish, Jill simply kept her nails trimmed and clean. Splaying her once-beautiful hands in front of her, she sighed. Even throughout the night in the mansion, she'd never ended up looking this shabby.

Eyeing the co-pilot seat, Jill wondered where they were headed. Probably Barry's home in Canada. She'd planned on joining Chris in Europe: both she and Rebecca. She'd been training every day. Her muscles stood out more prominently, her ability to endure had increased tenfold. And after the hellish time she'd been through, there wasn't anything that she couldn't handle. She settled herself and waited.

Fantasizing about a hot shower.

**October 2nd, 1998**

Chris paced. Barry had been supposed to fly he, Rebecca, and Jill to Europe, but he'd been stuck waiting for the past week. Barry's kids, Moira and Polly, kept him entertained, but there was only so much he could take.

And there wasn't any fucking cable.

"Chris, calm down!" Kathy scolded, setting down the tray of sandwiches. "Barry will be back soon. Trust him a little!"

They'd been buddies since the Air Force days, before STARS. Chris trusted the man with his life. But it still wasn't enough.

Patience was not one of Chris' virtues. When an idea came to him, he liked to go out and accomplish his goal. Waiting didn't suit him.

The sun was beginning to set hazily. Glancing out the window periodically, Chris ate the sandwiches Kathy had made. She stayed at home, mostly. Barry's salary had always been more than enough. Taking care of the kids (and Chris) was what she did best.

And her cooking was fantastic.

Slapped between two gigantic slabs of rye were turkey, corned beef, and chicken. She put the right amount of mayonnaise on the bread. The mustard didn't drip. The lettuce was crunchy and the tomato was juicy.

The ranch house was in the middle of god forsaken nowhere. It was cold. There were trees.

A door opened, then closed loudly. Polly and Moira were squealing. "Girls, don't slam the door!" Kathy called—

Then froze.

"Barry!" she cried happily, running to her tired-looking husband. "Where is everyone?"

"Only me," Jill came trudging up behind Barry, cerulean eyes surrounded by heavy shadows. Her shoulders slumped. Obviously exhausted, she leaned against a wall.

The girls rushed around her, asking dozens of questions, hi, how are you, why are you all dirty? Dad lets you play in the mud but mom yells at us. Why are you wearing boots?

Chris looked at Jill, dropping his sandwich. He swallowed the half chewed lump in his mouth, forcing it down his throat. He coughed quietly, and Jill glanced up.

Her mouth fell open, her lips forming a little round oval, white teeth peeking over chapped, red lips. Standing abruptly, Chris knocked his chair back. "Jill," he breathed.

Until that moment, he hadn't allowed himself to miss her. In case she didn't come back.

A little half smile haunted her lips, and she formed his name with her mouth.

He rushed to her and scooped her up in his arms. "Chris!" she cried, winding her arms around his waist. Cradling her head in his hands he grinned at her.

"You stink."

"Your breath smells like corned beef," she shot back weakly, trying to behave normally.

She was exhausted. Unable to think of anything but a safe, hot shower, she was haunted by the thought of soap.

Chris belatedly noticed how limp she felt in his grip. "Jill," he shook her away from him. Looking up at him, her cerulean eyes were shaded dramatically beneath long lashes. "Maybe you should take a nap or get something to eat…" he was at a loss. Redfields weren't the nursing type.

Kathy looked horrified. "Or a shower!" Wrapping an arm around Jill and pulling her into a vise-like grip, she began to chatter happily. "Jilly, you look like you could use a nice hot bath, I've gotten these lovely new bath salts and a shampoo-conditioner set that'll make your hair feel like you just got it done at a salon! Plus it smells like mint…"

Barry grinned tiredly at Chris and grabbed a sandwich. "My favorite." He chewed quickly, trying to eat as much as possible.

Chris looked at him. He'd tried to go to Europe, but traveling had been closed- apparently an 'epidemic' had gone off in Raccoon City. He'd instead flown up to Canada with Barry, hoping to get a flight there.

But then the truth came out.

A virus.

And Jill still in the city, fighting for her life just as she had before.

**Ju****ne 14, 1998**

_Jill rubbed lotion on her damp skin, waiting for the strongly scented strawberry cream to smooth her rough bumps and cuts, her dryness. All over herself, she methodically covered the pale flesh in the smoothing body butter. Looking around for a towel to wring out her dripping hair and wipe off the excess lotion, she swore._

_She and Rebecca Chambers were the only females on the squad. Therefore the locker room was impeccably clean, neat, tiny… and damnably under stocked._

_Whereas she kept almost everything she owned here: makeup, hair dryer, extra clothing, hygiene products, soaps, lotions, products, she forgot to grab a towel before running in for a shower._

_Rebecca always brought five, but she'd been sick lately. She was going on her first mission in less than two days, and was distracted. Jill was always distracted._

_Sopping wet, she checked her locker for some extra clothes. Nothing but her sweaty workout clothes inhabited the metal cubby. She ran a brush through her hair and put on some makeup, trying to at least keep up her pretense of respectability. She used paper towels to wipe her skin dry, and debated for a moment._

_A bang resounded in the small room. Jumping, Jill turned to the source. Chris was smashing the door. "Hey, Jill!" he yelled. "You outta the shower yet?"_

"_Yeah!" she squeaked, turning red. Even speaking to him without clothes brought out her inner modesty. She didn't usually have much use for the emotion, but she was in a tight spot. "Um, actually Chris, I was wondering…"_

"_What?"_

_She hid herself behind the door and cracked it. "Chris!" she hissed. "Don't be so obnoxious. I was wondering if you have a shirt and pair of pants I could, uh, borrow." _

_Chris' face mirrored hers. But then his expression changed to mirth. "Sure."_

"_And shut up!" she hissed. "Breathe a word to Forest and Joseph, and I'll get Barry's magnum and shoot you right now."_

"_Not naked you won't," he smirked. _

_What she loved about him was that he did it. He didn't try to open the door further, try to look at her, or tell anyone. _

_When he returned, he handed her the clothes, shutting his eyes. She quickly pulled on the shirt and pants in relief._

_She propped open the door. "You can come in now," she invited him. "I just need to grab my stuff now and we can leave."_

_She pulled on her boots, uncomfortably in the damp heat. She'd been sweating profusely, and the boots were old. She changed her mind, deciding to go barefoot rather than in something dirty. So often, her career choice required her to get filthy, to deal in blood and garbage and roll around in shit. She whenever she could, she preferred to feel clean._

_She felt a little uncomfortable in his clothes, without a bra or pair of underwear, but it was time to go home. She packed up the dirty laundry in her gym bag and tied the boot laces together, throwing them over her shoulder. A nap sounded nice. _

_Forest leered at her and inwardly, Jill quaked, hoping there was nothing to see. She didn't bother to check. Weakness was intolerable around guys like Forest. She glared at him and raised an eyebrow. He looked away quickly._

_While he'd always been a good enough guy, but Forest was one person who could always make her feel uncomfortable. Chris and Rebecca and everyone else was oblivious of course. Everyone except Wesker. He noticed everything. Everything to the point of looking up at Jill and smirking. She really felt her cheeks flame. She strode a little faster._

_Once she was in the safety of Chris' car, she felt it was safe to check._

_To her extreme embarrassment, the entire shirt was soaking at the top, clinging to her. She reddened, and prayed Chris wouldn't notice._

_Getting in, starting the car, and strapping his seatbelt, the only thing Chris Redfield noticed was how the goddamn lights always seemed to sense his approach and turn red._

**October 2, 1998**

Jill slept peacefully on the couch. Refusing to leave her side, Chris insisted on cradling her head in his lap. Seriously, Barry watched the pair. "You know, maybe she won't want to go to Europe. She's been through enough."

"I don't know how she did it," Chris admitted. "The first go must've been bad enough."

"Some little Spanish guy was with her. He was weird. One second you'd look at him and think he'd be a scrawny little guy, the next, he looks like a muscle machine."

Chris shrugged. "Who knows." He wasn't really interested in any man Jill had spent such a harrowing week with.

"I guess. He worked for Umbrella, apparently, a mercenary who got sent in to 'protect the survivors'." Barry snorted. "Yeah right. More likely to protect Umbrella's ass when they get pegged as the creators of this virus. They're in for a bunch of trouble."

Chris scowled. "They won't get caught. That's why we need to give them a little push in the right direction."

Softening once more, Barry smiled at the sleeping Jill. "Remember to at least ask her, Chris. Women eat that shit up. They love to be asked things. Even if they say no!"

Rolling his eyes, Chris responded: "Jill isn't a woman, she's Jill." Exasperatedly, he looked at the beautiful girl in his arms. "Look at those muscles! Besides, Jill doesn't play mind games."

"You're an idiot," Barry snorted. "I'm going to bed, where I'll politely ask my wife—"

"Shut up, Barry!"

"Even though I already know the answer is yes," finishing with dignity, Barry stood and left.

That was too much information, by _far_, in Chris' opinion. He definitely had no interest in Barry's nighttime activities.

He looked down at Jill, suddenly concerned. Light goosebumps trailed down her skin, and he realized she must be freezing. Jill was always cold, he remembered.

Chris had been sleeping in the guest bedroom, but he figured Jill deserved it more.

It must've felt odd, coming back to reality after all those creatures. Never realizing how strong she was, Chris admitted to underestimating her. An entire city infested with the undead, roaming around. Yet she was healthy, alive.

Perfect.

Chris awkwardly scooped her up, trying not to wake her. Light in his arms, he was worried she'd lost too much weight. He didn't want his friend to become fragile.

Making it to the bedroom, he didn't bother to turn on the lights. Yanking the covers back, he delicately placed Jill on one side, scooting on the other. Selfishness was a vice, Chris told himself, but he justified sharing the bed with her by telling himself that she needed him. What if she had nightmares?

Really, he just didn't want to sleep on the couch.

When he got into the bed, he rustled around, trying to get comfortable. But his noise woke her.

Blue eyes shot open, flashing like a lightning bolt. He swore to himself. Dammit.

"Chris?" a small voice asked. Jill's voice.

"Yeah?" he asked, gentling his voice. She looked exhausted.

"I'm scared." She began to cry. "I'm so scared. What if I wake up and all of a sudden, they're back? Don't leave me, please." Sniffing, she wrapped her small hand within his.

Emotion flooded him. Guilt? Tenderness? Annoyance? The rush of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him didn't have a name. Squeezing hard, he promised. "I won't, Jill. I'll stay until you get up, okay?"

She nodded gratefully, her short hair falling into her face in slightly damp knots. He brushed the chocolate locks back, admiring the mahogany tint in the soft, barely-there moonlight that peeked through the curtains.

It was a nice room, Chris noted. Simple. Thick black curtains blocking out the light, a soft beige rug, a white blanket covering the double bed. "Jill, what happened? In the city, I mean." He faltered. He didn't want to make her cry harder. That was the last thing he wanted. It'd be like Claire crying.

No, it'd be worse than Claire's tears. Claire cried often: any chick flick or sad movie brought out her waterworks. He remembered that he'd flushed her goldfish as a kid and she'd sobbed for days.

Jill wasn't like that. She was quiet, reserved. She smiled and joked as easily as anyone else, but any emotion that let others perceive weakness was locked away. As one of the only women in STARS, and in the Delta force, she was used to staying strong and keeping up with the big boys.

But this was too much.

She sniffed. "Thanks, Chris."

"Tell me about it, Jill. And I promise, I'll take care of you…" Next time? Would there be a next time? He sincerely hoped not… but it was a false hope.

"I don't need you to take care of me," she replied, curling into him, her cool skin jolting him. "Just don't leave me."

She needed him.

Jill knew it as surely as she knew she loved this man. He was stubborn and cocky and she knew he'd die for her. And it didn't matter how he felt about her, love, or lust, or friendship, or brotherhood, because they were partners.

Partners till the end.

She didn't hesitate. "Well, I didn't even realize it had started until…"

And with him listening carefully, she felt safe and relaxed, until she was able to sleep peacefully in his arms.


End file.
